


my darkness, if you had heard how he sang tonight

by leapylion3



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Dubious Consent, F/M, Gen, Greek Mythology - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 18:28:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leapylion3/pseuds/leapylion3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhaegar, the God of the Underworld, takes a beautiful wolf maiden as his queen. (A retelling of Hades and Persephone)</p>
            </blockquote>





	my darkness, if you had heard how he sang tonight

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably really terrible considering i suuuuck with mythology (as you can probably tell by this fic) and it's really more of a drabble than anything else
> 
> it was in my head all week and matt made me do it ok goodnight i am done 
> 
> title from Hades & Persephone by Anaïs Mitchell

He sat in the field, as still as death, as he had been for days on end. He would wait for _her_ , would wait through snow and sleet and rain. She would come eventually. She always did. His observations had not gone for naught.

She stepped onto the grass, barefoot, for she always liked to feel the dirt and the few between her toes. She took in a deep breath, arms spread wide. He watched her, as silent as a shadow. He smiled, almost, his hands resting on his harp. He would only have to wait a little bit longer. But waiting was his speciality.

“My lady,” he called once she approached him. She jumped, only noticing him now.

“Forgive me, my lord,” she panted, a hand on her breast, “I had not seen you there.” He cocked a brow at her, as if to say that she was not the only one. Many men and women had passed by him and hadn’t spared him a second glance. Not that he minded. All that mattered was _her_.

“Why don’t you come sit for awhile?” he suggested, sweeping his arm over the empty spot next to him. “I could play you a song, my lady. I’m told you love to hear those.”

“And how did you know that, my lord?” She sounded worried now, hesitant. The she-wolf would be tamed.

“I know a lot of things. I must admit that I wasn’t sure about that particular rumour. But you just confirmed it.” His purple eyes sparkled. “I hear a lot of gossip. I heard a little tale about winter roses being your favourite flower.” With a snap of his fingers, the grass around them flourished with bright blue roses.

Hesitantly, she plucked one up. “They’re fresh,” she observed.

“Anything for _my_ lady.” He took the rose and tucked it behind her ear. “Beautiful.” He took her hand in his, warm and clammy and _alive_ in his cold flesh.

“ _Rhaegar_ ,” she whispered- the only one to dare utter his name- as the leaves flew around them, swirling in the wind. The landscape peeled away, like the skin of an apple, and it revealed the gloomy Underworld. The rose died in her hair, the blue petals floating to the ground.

“Welcome home, my queen.”

* * *

 

Brandon was beyond furious, scouring the earth for his sister. The crops withered and died without her presence, and the snows blew without remorse. Ice, his greatsword, hung loosely in his grip as he stormed through the blizzards. His lips were blue and snow flecked and melted in his hair and beard; his hand trembled and threatened to drop his sword. But he would not stop. He would not sit by and freeze to death while his sister was being held captive.

He cried her name to the heavens, dropping to his knees. He was sick of this endless winter, and he was sick of searching tirelessly. He was _exhausted_ , hopeless, desperate… He missed his sister. He needed to find her.

He squinted, trying to focus on a blurry image he saw ahead of him. He reached out, hands grasping and gloves crinkling. _Winter roses_ …those had been Lyanna’s favourite. She had loved the smell, loved putting them in her hair. He could imagine her smile when he’d gifted her with a crown of roses and pressed his lips to her forehead.

“ _Brandon_.” It was Lyanna’s voice. He was dreaming, surely, fallen unconscious on top of the thick layer of snow. “ _Brandon, help me_.” The roses grew around him, all whispering his name in Lyanna’s voice.

He plucked one up and vanished into darkness.

* * *

 

The God of the Underworld sat on his throne, fingers digging into the cold metal. The swords stuck out, stabbing and scratching whoever sat upon it. But he could not feel pain. He had sat here for thousands of years, and he would for thousands more. It was one of the prices to pay for ruling the Underworld.

“My queen,” he greeted her as she walked into the room. “You look ravishing as always.” The red and black gown hugged her curves perfectly and trailed behind her on the ground. She approached him silently, her shoes clicking on the polished marble floor. The room was black as night, and once the door closed behind his queen, the only light came from the glowing rubies on Rhaegar’s armour.

“I want to go home.” She had been saying the same thing for the month she had been here.  

“This _is_ your home.” She sighed and stopped in front of his throne. She wore a crown of intertwined blue roses on her brow, one Rhaegar had never seen before. “Do you not like the crown I have gifted you?” It was made out of the best metal, encrusted with rubies to match his armour. Only the best for his queen.

“My brother is coming to get me. I know he is.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Is he, now? Was it not clear that you are mine now?” He put a crown on her head and made her Goddess of the Underworld. It was just as good as a blood oath.

“I am _no one’s_ but my own,” she snapped. He grinned, catlike and malicious. She was a wolf, indeed. But she would be tamed. She would learn to cooperate.

He stood up and put his hands on her hips. Her jaw tightened, but she did not back away. “How about that song, my queen? Before your brother comes to get you. I would deeply regret never letting you hear my song.”

She eyed him dubiously for a few moments, and he released his breath when she finally nodded. “If His Grace wishes.” She stepped back and his hands hung limply at his sides. “Just one song, before my brother comes. I shall hear no more.”

“As my queen commands.” He sat back on the throne and pulled his harp out from behind it. “One song is all it takes.”

* * *

 

Brandon stormed into the room, the heavy doors swinging shut behind him. He pointed the tip of his greatsword at the God of the Underworld, who sat casually on the cruel iron chair. “I demand my sister back.” His voice echoed throughout the stone hall, bouncing off the walls. His fury was plain upon his face, and within six strides of his long legs, he had reached the steps to the throne.

“She is yours,” the silver-haired god said simply, spreading his hands. His harp was nestled in between his legs. “Although I cannot promise you her for the whole year. You see, she listened to my song. Anyone who does must stay here with me. She must return to the Underworld in six months time.”

Brandon was ready to strike him, his features twisted into a snarl. He lunged forward, his knuckles white from gripping Ice-

“ _Brandon_!” Lyanna shouted. She picked up her skirts and ran to them, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed. She still wore the crown of roses he’d given her. “Don’t hurt him. Please.”

“Is it true? You must stay here with _him_?” He spat out the last word, as if it put a bad taste in his mouth.

“It is true. For six months, I am his. For the other six, I shall rejoin you and our brothers for a spring and summer above.”

He swallowed thickly. There was nothing he could do. She heard his song, binding her to the Underworld’s throne. He had no power here. “So be it.”

“I shall see you in six months, my queen,” Rhaegar promised, kissing the back of her hand. “Do take care.”

“And you, my king.” With her head held high and her hands fisted in her skirts, she followed Brandon out the door.

* * *

 

The God of the Underworld had played his harp and sang a song, and had made the wolf maiden sniffle. And now all shall suffer because of it.  


End file.
